The Ugly Halfling

Hi ugly halfing here.

Just imagine me saying that in a happy cheerful voice because I'm not bothered to use one. Go use your damn imagination, jeez. I mean, who would be merrily call themself ugly?

As you can see, I'm the only half human and werewolf in the whole werewolf realm. The only living one at the moment. Halfings are weak so they either die in the womb or die of extremely high fever. As for me, I happily announce that I have survived for seventeen years with not much trouble.

I was nothing but weird and different. Sure people don't insult me right in the face because I'm the Alpha's daughter but I was isolated... but still surrounded by people. You know what I mean?

Well, I got a whole lot stranger and weirder when I felt like I was being toasted, barbecued alive from the inside.

Guess what? The pathetically ugly halfling has superpowers!

I should freaking join the Avengers. Screw my muffin top, I'm wearing that tight wet suit and nothing's gonna stop me.


1. I. Being a Halfling Sucks!!

Haloo haloo dear watahmelowns! First chapter. Expect grammatic errors and all that jazz. After all, Uncle Chugs is not perfect.


Living in a werewolf realm as a halfling,  is hard.

Living in a werewolf realm as an ugly halfling is harder.

I, Mara Canterbury, live in a place where I'm surrounded by beautiful beings. And seriously, I'm not living in denial. I'm not that kind of girl who's really pretty and believes that she's ugly.

Because no matter which angle I look in the mirror, I'm still ugly.

A full werewolf is free from the horrific effects of puberty. They're born beautiful and staying beautiful. Unlike me, I was born ugly and die ugly.

Truth hurts.

A full werewolf is physically fit and would grow muscles even if they don't exercise and the fact that they eat like a starved pig when they eat made it unfair. They don't get fat. A halfling like me eats like a starved caveman and gets a muffin top and an additional chin.

A full werewolf is strong, agile, fast and can shift into a big powerful furry wolf. A halfling like me couldn't lift a thick dictionary, trips herself, slow as a groaning zombie (my muffin top is weighing me down) and I could not shift. And when I run, everything jumps. My belly, big ass, boobs and hundred chins. I swear it's not an attractive sight. Better cover your eyes then, the imagine burns your sight.

I don't know why I'm so ugly. I mean, my mother was a world class super model who used to live in a private jet because she travels all the time, around the world. If you put Mommy beside me, she would look like my sister. I don't know how she could keep that slender figure of hers after giving birth to a fat ass potato.

And please, let us not forget about my dear big Daddy. My daddy is the alpha of Prime Howler, as cliché as it sounded, is one of the most feared and respected packs around the world. And do you remember when I said that werewolves are beautiful? Yeah, my dad looked like a college boy. Was that even fair? I looked like their freaking ugly little sister.

Imagine their faces when they saw an ugly wrinkly potato come out of my mother's vagina. Two beautiful people had a potato for a child, how unfortunate.

Speaking of unfortunate, if I were to have a mate, there's a great chance that he wouldn't want me. The thought alone sent a pinning sting penetrate through me heart. I know that rejecting a mate was very, very rare. The only recorded mate rejection that was ever known was once. When a selfish, pure evil rogue rejected his mate because she was an omega. They both died a slow painful death.

Once rejected, nothing would make you happy anymore. Your wolf would start to grieve. You would slowly lose your werewolf abilities (the werewolf stuff doesn't implies on humans). You are in constant pain. A sensation as if your body was being impaled repeatedly by a dull rusty knife. You wouldn't be able to do anything. Even if you lie down, it would hurt. You couldn't swallow down food or water and you would starve and thirst.

You would slowly lose your senses. Every sleeping and waking moment, you would have vivid dream of your mate being killed brutally and you could do nothing but watch as the light in your mate's eyes dim countless of times. Even if you crawl back to your mate, it would be too late. The only thing you could do would probably die together.

Like the tragic love story of Romeo and Juliet.

That was the only rejection that was ever known. Rejecting your mate was like sentencing yourself to a painful, excruciating death.

I would be really bummed if my mate rejects me. But as I thought about it, I think I would be just fine. I was used to not fitting in (clothes screw you) and being rejected. The werepeople don't literally display their dislike of me because if they do, daddy's going to whoop their asses. But I could feel it by the way they look at me, the way they distance themselves and how I don't have a single friend for the whole seventeen years of my life. 

It was pretty depressing if you think about it but that was just the way it was.


Mommy snapped me out of my negative thoughts. I blinked my eyes rapidly as my brain brought me back to reality.

"Yah?" I answered dumbly. My parents' nickname for me was Pig. It was because of my size and the way I ate which was, like a pig. Before ya'll lose your shit, they don't mean it in a mean way. It's a form of an endearment of some sick kind and basically my parents were just weird stupid-in-love teenagers.

"I asked you what you want you want for dinner." She said as she walked behind me and whipped out a hairbrush from her secret pocket (she always had beauty stuff hidden in her pockets; she said it was for emergencies) and started combing away the knots in my hair gently, soothing and relaxing my scalp.

I closed my eyes at the relaxing sensations. "Anything you cook, I eat." I shrugged and leaned back on the chair I was sitting on. Slowly, I opened my eyes and saw my reflection at the mirror.

Mommy was happily combing my hair and we fell into a comfortable silence. My eyes roamed my features and my brain immediately criticized my every flaw, which was many. I made a disgusted face. Pimples, acne and blockheads covered my face. I could see the hump of my second chin behind my first chin. Eeew. I'm the only one here that had these disgusting effects of puberty.

Look at my mommy. At the age of thirty two, she looked more of a goddess teenager than a mother of an ugly seventeen year old teenager. Her wavy black locks, that I had inherited, curled naturally to the small of her back. Her cerulean blue eyes framed with long thick lashes that made her look absolutely gorgeous. She was size ten and curvy like a damn hourglass. I've always wanted to look like her since I was a child. But as I grew up, I knew I could never match the beauty she held, the graceful way she moved and how perfect she was in everything she does.

Mommy slapped my forehead.


"Stop making that face!"

"How can I not?"

"Because you'll always be beautiful in our eyes."

I rolled my eyes "That's because you're my mother, riding on a horse called Denial."

Mommy glared at me through the mirror.

"Sorry, sorry. I forgot Daddy has a stallion named Denial, too."

With that, I earned myself another smack.

"Pig," Mommy sighed defeatedly. "Your daddy and I see you as the most beautiful treasure that we have and will forever cherish.." She wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed the crown of my head. "We love you and we'll never lie to you unless it's under some circumstances because we're parents. But stick to that thick head of yours that even though other people see you ugly, you'll always be beautiful in our eyes."

"You guys need to get your eyes checked then."

"I swear Mara, I've smacked you on the head so many times I think I finally damaged your brain."

We both laughed when the door of my bedroom opened and revealed a tall man whose green eyes that resembled mine glinted happily and a large stupid grin graced his face. He wore his infamous black Armani suit, daddy graced us with his ever sweet and loving personality as he entered my room.

"How's my Baby Pig and Mommy Pig?" He scooped us up in his arms and smothered our faces with kisses. I made a face when his stubble came in contact with my face. ITCHY!!

"Daddiiiii! Your beeeaaard!" I screeched, and pushed his face away from mine. My weird parents laughed.

Daddy let go of Mommy and held me completely in a tight embrace to nozzle his face on my neck, tickling and leaving me laughing uncontrollably in the process.

"I miss my Baby Pig!" He squeezed me tighter, almost cutting the circulation in my body.

"Love me, not kill me!" I pried myself from the pouting old man and straightened up my clothes.

Daddy hugged Mommy instead, snuggling his head on her neck and faked wailing. "Our daughter's in her teenage rebellion. My once sweet Baby Pig is now a grumpy teenager!"

I rolled my eyes and started to make my way out of the room. My parents started making out - in my room - and I immediately excused myself before things get rated R. I hope - please, please, please - don't do the sex on my bed. Doing it all around the house and cars was one thing, but doing it on my bed was kinda taking it too far. I mean, can they make an exception of not doing the sex where their child sleeps and smothers her face in? It's freaking disgusting.

I made my way down the hall to head to the fireplace when my eyes caught the large family portrait on the cream coloured wall. There, the three of us stood, all smiling. I was in the middle with my mommy and daddy standing behind me. Jeez, we looked like we're siblings and I was unfortunately the ugly one, the one who got the ugly face genes.

But nonetheless, we looked incredibly happy.

This photo was taken after a week that Daddy finally stopped feeling guilty and forgave himself. It wasn't his fault really. It was most of my part for eavesdropping and being such a nosy brat.

I still remembered it vividly in my mind and it was less disturbing now that I've grew past it. When I was still small and ugly, a beta from Germany not-so-bluntly insulted my looks and that I was the weakest link in the pack. That in time, I would follow the fate of the halflings before me, which was to die. He said that if I die, it would wreck my parents, thus destroying the pack.

I heard all of that behind Daddy's big oak office door and I let out a squeaky sob. I mean, I was only seven years old. And when you hear that someone thought of you ugly (back then, I thought I was pretty because my parents said so), weak and that you'll die very soon was painful. I started to realize that, that was why the kids in my school would look at me weirdly and whisper among themselves and wouldn't play with me.

My sobbing ceased when I heard a loud menacing growl thundered inside the office. It sent a pang of fear through my system and made me shiver in a bad way. Then it was followed by a curddling scream of a man, of things being thrown around, sounds of wrecking havoc inside. I suddenly felt scared that there could be a monster, a rogue as my parents says, that suddenly attacked my daddy and the mean German beta inside.

I opened the door and the sight that beheld itself in front of me was printed in my young mind and haunted me for a few years.

The smell of blood filled my nostrils, overwhelming me. I don't know how Daddy managed to do it within seconds but blood was absolutely everywhere. Blood dripped from the ceiling. The walls had blood trailing down on them. Daddy's big table and bookshelf... It looked like there was a large massacre.

Limbs and pieces of the wereman that was once alive and annoying was scattered in the room. Daddy's large bloody wolf with the dead beta's detached head was locked in his mouth was frozen in his spot, looking at me in surprise. I just stood there staring, my body in a paralysed state.

It took at least nine months before I was able to move again and recover from my body paralysis. Daddy blamed himself and I never saw him shift or see his big fluffy grey wolf for a few years because he was so guilty and hated himself for what happened to me. It was a traumatic event for all of us, especially for Daddy. It took him years before he was able to stop being so cautious and scared with me.

My daddy's a scary pansy.

Don't tell him that.

I mean, if I see him again do that, I won't be scared anymore. I would probably cheer for him too. The stupid werekids in school always have a brawl during lunch time in the school yard. So I was pretty much used to the gore. Jeez, I don't watch Human Centipede and Saw movies for nothing. They entertain me quite a lot.

Before I start to fantasize about my favourite movies, warm muscled arms engulfed me in a tight warm hug from behind. I leaned back on my daddy's chest and patted his hands.

"How are you doing darling?" He asked, "Feel nothing weird of some sort?"

I shook my head as he untangled his arms and rested one on my shoulder as he led me down the big staircase. As Daddy and I joked and laughed heartedly, I felt a faint heat crawling across my chest. I ignored it and begun to laugh again when Mommy threw herself at Daddy and they begun to wrestle on the floor.

Damn immatures.  I hope they didn't make the sex on my bed.


Thanks for wasting your time to read this :D!

I would kiss you with my velvet red covered lips and print that shit on your damn forehead like a damn annoying grandma!


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